by S. M. Soto
“Always,” he whispers, pressing his lips against mine. His plump lips glide over mine, stealing each breath, owning every inch of me. When he pulls back, he gets to work, opening up the first aid kit. I let him tend to my head, clean me of any excess blood that dried up after my fall earlier. I close my eyes and lean my head back, enjoying the way his skin feels on mine.
When he’s done cleaning up my head, he takes a washcloth and is careful as he washes my body, taking extra care to watch out for my hip. The area is already turning a gnarly shade of blue and purple from the fall, and I can only imagine that over the course of the next few days, it’ll get a little worse. After I’m cleaned of everything that happened today, Creed takes me back to the bed and helps me dress. He lays me in the now fresh sheets, helping me slide under. I don’t know how they manage to do it—the women who work here. It’s like they manage to slip in and get their jobs done without being told. Hell, we weren’t even in the bathroom long. And they’ve already changed the sheets from the old ones to clean ones—all for me. All for Creed.
He slips in bed beside me, and for the longest time, we just lay there, enjoying each other’s presence. Enjoying the feel of being wrapped up in each other. This is what I’ve missed over the course of the last few days. Him holding me. His scent. His strength. I’ve missed all of him.
Finally, I summon the courage to ask more thoroughly about Finlay, since the answer he gave earlier wasn’t exactly a straight one. My lids are starting to get heavy and I don’t want to give in to sleep just yet. I need to know what happens next.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I don’t need to elaborate, he already knows who I’m referring to. I feel his body tense up beneath mine. I know he doesn’t want to talk about him. Especially with us so close together in bed. But I have a right to know. I need to know that when our son is born, Finlay will no longer be a threat.
“He’s going to be taken care of,” His voice is short and abrupt. I blow out an inaudible sigh, trying to tread the subject lightly.
“You’ve said that already. But what are you going to do?”
“I’m not talking about this with you.”
I clench my eyes shut, hating the sharp tone of his voice. The way he’s shutting down—shutting me out. I need to know what is going to happen. I know Creed wants his revenge, I get it. But I also know all the ways he’s planning on torturing Finlay. I don’t need the dark version of him when our baby is born, I need the other version, the one that was just kissing my belly and professing his love to us. I need the light that is there, hidden beneath all his darkness.
I acquiesce for now, not wanting to anger him, especially after today. I’ll demand to know more soon. At least that’s what I tell myself.
I’m surprised when I wake up the next morning and Creed is gone and in his place is Dr. Chang and Magdalene, milling about.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
I shift my body upright, leaning my back against the pillows to prop myself up. There’s still a twinge in my hip and it feels much worse today than I expected it would. It’s sore from cushioning my fall yesterday, but at least my head isn’t pounding today.
“A little better. My hip feels a little sore.”
He nods. “And your head?”
“No more pounding. I slept after the exam yesterday and again after cleaning up. I think it helped some.”
“I’m sure it did. And that’s good. If you can keep resting as much as possible, that’s the best way you can help your body heal.”
Just then Magdalene strolls into the room with a wheelchair and slowly my gaze drifts from the chair back to Dr. Chang. My brows pull together.
“This is just to help you get around for the next few days. If your hip keeps bothering you, this is going to be your best friend getting around the estate. I’d like you to stay in bed all day today, but if you need to get up for anything, to eat and what not, use the chair. If the pain persists in the hip, I’ll do an exam just to make sure there’s not a fracture or a crack. But for now, use the chair until the bruising and swelling goes down.”
I force a smile and when Alexis comes into the room with a smirk on her face, I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“Stop doing that face.”
“What face?” she mockingly gasps.
I roll my eyes playfully. “Just help me into the chair, I’m starving.”
Laughing under her breath, Alexis easily helps me slide out of bed and we clamber into the bathroom. She helps lower me down onto the toilet to pee, and like the good friend she is, she helps me back up and guides me to wash my hands and brush my teeth before we head down the hall for breakfast.
She pushes the wheelchair with ease, navigating the way through the halls of the estate. When we get into the kitchen and formal dining area, there’s a full spread of food and most of the guys are already up, seated around the immaculate dining table. The only ones missing from breakfast are Garrett, Creed, Lorenzo, and Monte.
I try not to let my mind wander too much and worry about what they could be doing. There’s no doubt in my mind they’re probably off God only knows where doing something to Finlay. If he’s even still alive. But I know Creed and after everything Finlay has done, his death won’t be an easy one. I know that. And yet still, despite all the pain he’s inflicted, I can’t explain why the thought of him being tortured bothers me. Maybe it’s the pregnancy or something else, but I feel…bad for him. He was sick. Completely deranged. I thought he was a friend at one point. He used me as a pawn in his game. He was like a demented puppeteer, pulling the strings, using all of us as pawn pieces in his game to get what he desired. I think all he really wanted was someone to love him as much as he loved his family. And after they couldn’t, not after what happened with his sister, he got rid of them and somehow latched onto me. That’s all I was, his coping mechanism. A way for him to feel close to his sister again.
I’m more sure of it now than I ever was that there’s something wrong with Finlay. Clinically wrong in the head. Maybe he needed help while he was a child and his parents brushed it under the rug. Who knows when it started. All I know is, the man beneath the crazy couldn’t have always been this crazy. At least I hope not. I wanted to believe there was a bigger reason. A better explanation for him doing what he did. Besides my theory of him wanting to feel loved.
But I don’t think there is one.
Still, after everything he’s done, I’m here looking for any redeeming qualities in the man—the friend I thought I knew. Turns out, I didn’t really know him at all.
After eating breakfast, Alexis helps wheel me back to the hospital grade room. I don’t even know why they insist on calling it the medical room. It’s more like a luxury hospital suite. On the way there, we find Magdalene waltzing down the hall, and I stop her, wanting to know about Matteo. I didn’t have a chance to ask Creed about him last night. He didn’t seem to be mourning the loss of his only parent, so I didn’t think anything horrible happened, but honestly, you can never tell with Creed.
“How is he?”
She smiles sadly, knowing who I’m referring to. “He’s recovering. He was stable through the night. Did you want to see him?”
I pause for a beat, unsure if that’s what I want. Do I want to see him sunken into a hospital bed because of my foolish decision yesterday? I honestly don’t know. I know I want to thank him. So, in the end, that’s what I decide to do—thank him.
“I’d like that.”
Magdalene gives me a polite smile and leads the way. Alexis wheels me after Magdalene without question. I see two of Matteo’s men pass by on the way and it makes me think of Creed.
“Have you seen Creed this morning?” I ask.
Magdalene slows and doesn’t meet my gaze. “Uh, no. He’s just busy. Let me know if you need anything, Sophia.” Magdalene rushes off without a look back at me and I can’t help but frown at her retreating form.
What the hell was that?
I shoot a questioning glance at Alexis and she just shrugs her shoulders, obviously not having a clue what that was about either.
With a shake of my head, we cross the threshold into another room, this one much more sterile than my room. Another hospital grade bed sits front and center, but there are much more machines, more wires, more…everything connected to Matteo. As I look around, I realize this is the room Garrett was in after he was shot. A chill travels down my spine just thinking about that. Alexis wheels me right up to the bed and pats my thigh.
“I’ll leave you to it. Just call me if you need me.”
With a nod, I let her leave and turn back toward Matteo. My chest tightens when I glance at the bed. He’s lying there, a multitude of tubes connected to him. As quietly as I can, I lower myself into the seat next to his bed and almost as if he can sense someone else is in the room with him, his eyes slowly peel open. They fill with surprise when they adjust to the dim lighting in the room and land on me. I give him a weak smile and wave.
He eyes the wheelchair warily and I see the questions in his eyes. He’s probably wondering what the hell I’m doing in this chair. Not wanting him to worry, I explain the wheels.
“Dr. Chang’s orders. Bruised my hip pretty bad and he doesn’t want me walking around too much just yet.”
He doesn’t respond, but I do catch the miniscule nod of his head. Pain ripples across his features at the attempt.
“How are you feeling?” I fumble nervously with the string on my shirt.
Matteo makes a sound that sounds awfully like a grunt. “Like I got shot.”
I try not to laugh because this isn’t the time, so I opt for a smirk and shake my head at him. My eyes rake across the tubes and the bags hanging from the pole beside him. A tightness settles in my chest, making it hard to breathe the longer I stare at him.
“I’m so sorry, Matteo. This is all my fault. I should’ve never asked to leave the estate. I should’ve never had you guys take me to the park. I don’t know what I was thinking I—”
“You were thinking that you have your own free will. That you wanted to get fresh air.”
“I know but I—”
“Gesú, woman. That’s enough,” he grits through the pain. I stop talking immediately, pressing my lips together when all I want to do is keep apologizing. “Did you make me take that bullet for you?”
I open my mouth to answer, but he beats me to it, cutting me off.
“No, you didn’t. Were you the one who fired that gun? No, you weren’t. So what the fuck are you apologizing for, principessa? Over my dead body would I allow my heir to be murdered right in front of me. Valentina would’ve had my ass.”
I crack a smile, trying to tamp down the guilt.
“I know, I just—”
“If you’re going to apologize again, I’ll make you leave.” I snap my mouth shut and look down at my hands nestled in my lap. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.” I blow out a breath. “Well, thank you for doing that. I—” I pause briefly to correct myself. “—We probably wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”
“I know,” he says quietly. I lift my gaze back to his, taking in his slumped form. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man in anything but a suit, so seeing him here, in one of his weakest moments, in a hospital bed? It’s a little surreal.
He glances up at the ceiling and his face slackens a little bit. It makes me wonder what he’s thinking. Instead of asking, I sit with him in contented silence. I can only imagine what he’s thinking about. Most likely his wife.
Does he miss her?
How has he survived this long without her?
Did he ever try to move on after she passed?
So many questions bombard my brain that I start to get a headache. I close my eyes and try to enjoy the silence. Once my stomach starts to grumble, I’m about to apologize and tell him I’ll be back with Creed later, but when I look over at him, I realize he’s already asleep.
Not calling for Alexis, I manage to slip back into the chair and roll out of the room, trying not to wake him. I’m surprised when I get to the door and Alexis is already there waiting.
“Hungry already?”
My gaze snaps to hers. “How did you know?”
She smirks. “I already know your guys’ feeding schedules by heart. Come on.”
I SIT FORWARD IN THE uncomfortable chair, my elbows perched on my knees in the shadows as I watch the scene in front of me unfold with rapt attention. My hands and forearms are already coated with his blood from earlier. Cova and I have been taking turns with him.
His fists fly at his face, his body, the sound of Finlay’s pain filled grunts echo around the basement, and I relish in them. I let Garrett have his fun because he deserves it. So, I watch. Intrigued by Finlay’s pain. I sit back, enjoying the way he winces. The way his teeth curl over his lips. The way his blood drips from the split skin and open wounds.
When Cova’s fists slow, his beating and yelling coming to an end, I know Finlay has passed out. It’s a shame, really. I easily could’ve gone another hour or so listening to his pain.
I push up from the chair, and Garrett wipes his bloody, swollen fists on his shirt, his chest heaving as he stares down at an unconscious Finlay. I give him a moment, walking out of the basement door, up the steps. It doesn’t take long for him to follow.
We slip out of the basement, bypassing the foyer, heading straight toward our rooms on the east wing. I rolled down my sleeves as we walked out, trying to hide most of the blood covering my hands and arms, in case I run into Sophia from here to the shower. So far everyone on the estate has been good about keeping her busy throughout the day. I didn’t want her seeing the blood or worrying about Finlay. She didn’t need to concern herself with what we were doing to him and the best tactic I was using was avoidance. She was better off not knowing, especially in her condition.
I made it clear to everyone she shouldn’t be walking around the estate on her own anyway. After Dr. Chang advised bed rest and told me he was bringing in a wheelchair for her, I made sure the staff knew to be on the lookout. If I wasn’t around to push her or help her, someone else needed to be.
“He seems weak already,” Garrett tosses out, referring to Finlay.
He did seem to be weakening and it hadn’t even been a full forty-eight hours. But with Dr. Chang’s help, we’re going to rectify that. After the torture he endured today at Garrett’s hands and my hands, he’s going to need medical attention if I want to keep him alive longer than the rest of the week. And for what I have planned for him, I need him alive for a very, very, long time.
“I’ll take care of it,” is all I say in reply.
We part ways without so much as another word and by the time I’m done showering, I check in on Matteo only to see he’s still passed out. I linger in the doorway, hesitant on whether or not I should stay. My feet make the decision for me. Shutting the doors behind me with a quiet click, I head to our room to look for Sophia. My lips thin into a grim line when I see that she’s not in bed. I’m just about to turn on my heels and throw open the door, hell-bent on stalking through the halls to find her when the bathroom door swings open and she walks out. A bright smile lights up her face when she sees me.
“Hey. Where were you this morning? You missed breakfast.”
“I had to handle some things.”
By the look on her face, I can tell she wants to say more, possibly even ask questions so I brush it off with another question to distract her.
“How are you both feeling today?” I reach out, caressing the bruised lump on her head. “And why are you up walking around?”
She smirks at the question and shakes her head. Sophia rubs her stomach with her free hand, and I take her other as I guide her back to the bed.
“Slowly getting better. My hip still hurts, it feels stiffer and more bruised today and my head still pounds when I get out of bed too fast, but I don’t feel too bad.”
I raise a brow, wanting to argue
and badger her for the truth, but instead, I let her pretend she isn’t in as much pain as she more than likely is. That was just like Sophia. To put on a brave face even when she didn’t need to.
“Hungry?”
“Meh.” She shrugs, and a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. She’s always hungry. Lifting her into my arms I deposit her on the bed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and tell her I’ll be right back.
I’m just heading into the kitchen, asking the handful of staff on hand to put together a meal for her when I get a call. The phone vibrates against my leg within the pocket of my pants and my brows pull down. The only reason this phone rings is when something is wrong or when I’m dealing with the famiglia. Digging the phone out of my pocket, I frown when I see it’s one of our men who works the front gate.
“What is it?”
“The feds are here. About three deep. Say they want to talk. One of the vehicles is all blacked out, I’m thinking Federal.”
My upper lips curls over my teeth. Anger spreads through my veins like wildfire.
Well, isn’t this a fucking surprise?
This is not what I need right now. Hell, no one on this fucking estate needs this right now. Least of all the famiglia.
“Let them through,” is all I say before I end the call and dial Clarence. He’s somewhere on the estate, but I don’t have time to search for him. Not after this bomb has been dropped on me.
“Boss.”
“Search every authoritative database you have. Anything with the keyword Sabella. The feds are here.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. “I’m on it.”
Just as I’m pocketing the phone, I make my way into the foyer, and as if on cue, there’s a knock on the looming wooden doors. With my arms crossed over my chest, I scowl at the door, trying to play out in my head how this can go. It could be a simple visit, them wanting to come here and spook us, or they could have a warrant. And if they do, we’re well and truly fucked.
Letting the minutes tick by until a sufficient amount of time has passed, I finally uncross my arms and pull the door open. Two police cruisers with one black nondescript vehicle are what I notice first. I can make out a single form sitting in the blacked-out vehicle, by the build of the body and how wide the shoulders are, I’m guessing it’s a man.
